


A Neutral Accident

by Doitsuki



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Crack Treated Seriously, Drugs, Humor, Incest, Kinda, M/M, Magic, Multi, Nonsense, OOC, Voyeurism, banter fic, dubcon, it sorta just devolves into madness by chapter 3, just a little, personality warp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crack Fic!<br/>Gandalf releases magic in Rivendell that annihilates what peace there once was. Even far beyond the Misty Mountains, the effects of his glorious blunder can be felt.<br/>This is what a lack of sleep and suppressed ideas creates. lel<br/>Warning, it doesn't make sense. <br/>(there is a plot tho)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> was gonna title this as 'Rivendell Sexcapades' but figured my embarrassed skirting around smut would frustrate just about everyone XD  
> Pervy Elrond: LET'S GO!

Gandalf had only been resting in Rivendell awhile, subtly trying to delay the Fellowship’s departure. He had a bad feeling about this troublesome but necessary quest, and clung to his current peace. At present, he sat beside a passed-out Bilbo with a pipe full of rare Gondorian pipeweed.

 _‘Boy, do I love getting turnt.’_ He hummed a low tune with a lazy smile on his face, eyes crinkling in mirth. _‘Hmhm, perhaps when Aragorn becomes King I shall secure a stash of this for myself… just for the hard times.’_ The wizard glanced at his friend, chuckling at the sight of Bilbo’s delirious face. With eyes rolled back into his head and a lopsided grin, Bilbo had long passed the stage of coherent thought. Gandalf hoped to achieve a likewise state as his recent worries often gave him many sleepless nights. The fate of Middle-Earth rested in his counsel towards the Fellowship… and in his opinion, they weren’t exactly the sharpest swords to do their cutting job. He had faith in Aragorn, the brave, strong ranger with enough wisdom and might to lead a small army. Boromir he feared for (he’d seen how the man looked at the One Ring…) and Gimli’s temper would surely lead to some explosive arguments during the journey. The hobbits would likely end up as mincemeat (save for Frodo, who Gandalf believed was _special_ ) but the truly worrisome one was lovely Legolas, with his finely manicured nails and hair of golden silk. There was no way the Fellowship would get more than a few miles without _someone_ trying to bang him, and Gandalf knew how the folk from Mirkwood could screech.

‘ _Elbereth’s tits, we’re really in for a rough time. Oh well! I will not worry about that now.’_ Gandalf’s inner voice was soundly resolute and left no room for concern. He took a long, deep draught of smoke and breathed it back out. Closing his reddened eyes, he smiled.

_‘Just a few more days.’_

After three hours, Gandalf was more stoned than the pebbled bottom of a river. He giggled at the tiny birds flitting by, and they chirped bright insults at him. He only laughed harder, grabbed his staff and skipped off to make mischief. His partying side stood up with a fierce salute and went marching straight for where Elrond was having an argument with his daughter.

“Adar, please do not let him go!” Arwen cried, trying her best not to stamp her feet in despair. “He will die out there!”

“He is mortal, you’ll have to face it some day.” Elrond’s serious tone didn’t go well with his fed-up face and Arwen thought her father was making fun of the situation.

“H-how could you say that! He’s your _son!_ ”

“Adopted son.” Elrond held up a single bony finger in correction.

“But he doesn’t know that, and… and…!!” Giving in to temptation, Arwen jumped on the spot. The fragile wooden floor shook. “If you don’t make him see sense and stay here, I’ll tell him he’s adopted!!”

 _‘No!’_ Inside his head, Elrond’s brain squeezed a literal gasp. Hot air could be seen fluttering the loose locks of hair by his ears.Outwardly he narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips and tilted his eyebrows to exactly 56 degrees. “Child, are you trying to _blackmail_ me?”

“What? No! My mail is completely white! I mean… hang on, I don’t even wear mail! What are you on about, Adar? Don’t change the subject!” The image of a chainmail-wearing Arwen surged through Elrond’s head and he cringed at how, in his mind she wore little else. He’d been terribly deprived of affection for the past few thousand years, and had found his thoughts turning perverse at every available occasion. It sickened his sensible mind and delighted his suppressed heart. Something else took interest but Elrond ignored it, telling his smaller self to calm down. Arwen meanwhile stared at him, confused and upset.

“Estel is going to save Middle-Earth, and if you want to stop him you may talk to him yourself. I must be going now-”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” An enormous blast forced the door open and Gandalf’s bellowing laughter filled the room. “Ahahahaha! If it isn’t the majestic Lord himself! Oh, Arwen why do you look so distraught? Did you break a nail?”

Both elves stared at the wizard in a mixture of shock and horror. Bloodshot eyes met cold grey ones, and then it happened. Gandalf pitched forwards and unwilling to break his nose, smacked his staff into the ground for support. Brilliant white light burst from the tip (and gave Elrond some rather filthy ideas) before temporarily blinding the elves. In a flash, Elrond was on the ground and Arwen had flown halfway across the room.

“Ehehee. Fuck.”

On that day, Gandalf gave no further fucks and made a swift exit, still giggling like mad.

The next was not so amusing.

 

~

 

Elrond awoke to a frail hand at his shoulder shaking him.

“Milord, please wake up!” Lindir’s voice quavered like a thin leaf in a cyclone, still glued to the branch of hope. He wasn’t going to give up, not just yet! And it was just as well he didn’t, for Elrond’s sunken eyes opened in a languid, wet blink. The hard floor had given him quite a stiff pain all over his ancient body, and Elrond’s first instinct was to roughly shoulder Lindir away. Lindir scampered back, standing to brush off his clothes. He wore his usual blue surcoat with its delicate silver flowers and matching outer robe, which happened to be a magnet for various particles. Mostly dust lived there, despite Lindir sliding around the halls on quick slick feet all day. Once, Erestor had used him to dust tight corners and tall places when all the feather dusters had gone missing. He was just so attractive to the settling of nature’s invasive grey powder. Dusty thoughts aside, Lindir stepped towards his Lord. Elrond had not yet gotten up and was leaning on one elbow, hair spilling over a fine cheek. Suddenly Elrond flicked his head back and in a glorious swirl, his hair was pulled by gravity to coil in a beautiful dark mess on the floor.

“Uhhnnn…”

Seeing Elrond’s face contort in pain, Lindir rushed to his side. Such exquisite agony! It did not belong on the face of such a fair creature.

“Milord, are you well? You have been unconscious for-”

“Oh, shush.” Elrond’s scathing hiss burned down the door to Lindir’s mental phobia room. “I have the most horrible headache – fetch me a bit of red, _now_.”

Afeared that his Lord held some sort of hatred towards him, Lindir bowed and sprinted out of the room. His dainty elven slippers made soft thumps upon contact with the floor, so at least there was no solid-heeled clacking to further Elrond’s annoyance.

Erestor nearly walked into Lindir as the servant turned a corner, a wraithlike paleness to his face.

“Stop that at once!” Erestor shrilled, causing Lindir’s ears to fold in on themselves like sagging wet pastry. “Don’t run in the halls, you’ll break something!”

“And you’ll f-fix it for me!” Lindir continued to run before Erestor could start screaming and went straight for the cellars, down several flights of stairs.

 _‘Why does Elrond want wine this early in the morning? By the Valar, this is strange. He usually only drinks mead if he needs to quieten that brilliant mind of his…’_ Lindir could not find the logic in Elrond’s request, and thus failed his favourite pastime of trying to understand the reasons behind his duties before he had to complete them. He always obeyed, even if a conflict of interest arose. His Lord and Master wanted wine, and so it would be done. Within three minutes Lindir reached Elrond with a bottle of aged red and one goblet, polished to a gleam. Elrond stared at the sparkling crystal for just a tad long and grabbed it the second Lindir finished filling it. He downed the sweet wine in one long gulp, closing his eyes. Lindir had barely managed to think about how Elrond usually let his fine liquor breathe a little before the goblet was thrust towards him. He paused. Elrond’s fair face twisted into a bitter snarl, fingers tightening as if aching for blood.   
“More.”

“Y-yes, milord.” Lindir desperately tried to stop shaking but alas he poured the wine with the face and stature of a shaved, beaten puppy.

_‘What is he, cold? Ugh, it is a little drafty in here. It’s those damned windows, letting in the sun’s bare light. Hold, the curtains are open? I won’t have this at all.’_

Snatching his goblet before Lindir even finished pouring, Elrond gestured with his head to the window. The next few seconds were punctuated only by a few short gulps and ragged breathing. Lindir steadied himself, pep-talked his lungs and whispered.  
“Is there anything else?”

Elrond’s sudden wide-eyed glower gave the intention that Lindir had suddenly become denser than mercury.

“Draw the damned curtains, you fool! Or have you lost the intuition for that too? Ai.” He shook his head with an exasperated breath, slamming his goblet on the floor. He’d not moved since his request and only now did he rise to his feet, shaking hair out of his eyes. Lindir’s dragging of the curtains brought the sun’s sickly yellow light to little more than a sliver, where it had formerly drenched the room in an unpleasant glow. Elrond found the normally beautiful rays disgusting and rubbed his eyes. Now at least there was darkness, and quiet darkness at that. He could however hear Lindir breathing. One last glare was shot at the now whimpering servant before Elrond stalked out of the room, head held high.

Only now did he think to heal his apparent injury after having momentarily self-medicated with wine. He did possess the finest healing hands in all of Arda, after all. His fair face glowed with pride as he strode into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. After closing the curtains and making sure darkness caressed him, Elrond rubbed at his temples and felt his headache begin to ease. Pleasant fuzziness tingled at the center of his mind, though he was far from being tipsy and miles away from drunkenness. A little wine was the perfect way to start what could’ve been a terrible morning.

 _‘Now what was I doing on the floor?’_ he thought, stripping down to his skin and spreading himself across his thickly covered bed. _‘I remember only Arwen’s braying voice and the sheer stupidity of our argument… bah. Oo, this cold silk feels absolutely divine. I might just wriggle a little more here…’_ After several minutes Elrond made himself comfortable and closed his eyes, drifting into a peaceful nap.


	2. Chapter 2

Aragorn, completely oblivious to any and everything made an attempt at speech. Unfortunately he had something obstructing his throat that lead him to panic, throwing all thoughts of a nice morning yawn out the window.

“GHGNGHAH??!” He thrashed about and shoved whoever lay atop him right onto the floor, smacking his lips. They felt… slimy. Eugh.

Arwen rose with hair plastered to her face, fallen eyelashes and pillow fluff glued to her tear-streaked cheeks.

“Oh Estel, my love! You cannot go on that terrible quest!”

“W-Wait, what are you talking about? Sis, are you alright? Don’t go suddenly meleth-nínning me so early in the morning-”

“It’s 1pm and I’m going to nín you til I sin you! You _must_ listen to me!”

Aragorn shook his head and wondered just what had gotten into Arwen.

“Your elvish drama queen side is showing, and quite frankly I don’t want to see it. I’m going to go have lunch… heurgh, I’m starving!” In a single energetic bound, Aragorn leapt from the bed and promptly faceplanted into the floor. Around his ankle a firm, nasty rope was tied. It scratched him till he bled from the repeated abrasion.

“You’re not going _anywhere_.” said Arwen, and sat on Aragorn’s head.

_‘I don’t want **that** for lunch, not now. Whatever happened to those nice salmon canapes…?’_

~

The Fellowship (minus one) sat in Elrond’s lush garden, soaking up what energy they could from the midday warmth. Boromir was cuddled up to Legolas and continually tried to sneak his broad hands into the elf’s pants, while Legolas expertly maneuvered his body away. He only managed to back into a thorny rose bush, where he was pricked in all the wrong places.

“Got you now, love.” whispered Boromir, fingers twitching in readiness. A sudden distraction saved Legolas’s sweet round ass and Boromir looked away. Frodo had the Ring out and dangled it on its chain, glittering enticingly. It swayed in the light breeze and Boromir soon became transfixed. Legolas took this moment to run and hide with his Mirkwood escorts, who were standing around gossiping about those strange, lofty Noldor. So different to the easygoing folk back home! Legolas quickly assimilated himself into the conversation.

“I can’t _believe_ that Lord Elrond’s eyebrows. Have you SEEN them? They’re like two wispy cocks at half mast, waving about for attention.”

“Bahahaha! Gilraen, you shall be the death of me. That is, if the old fart doesn’t hear us shit-talking his funny brows from a closed room.”

Legolas sighed, not understanding the connection between the dirty Sindarin insults. Elrond seemed like a nice enough guy, for a half-elf. He maintained decent hygiene and dressed well, and didn’t raise his voice towards his guests. The latter was not one of Thranduil’s strong points, and Legolas saw in Elrond what his own father did not have. Benevolence. True patience. Control. A lack of crippling addiction and paranoia. The list went on. Then he came to the eyebrows, and muttered out loud “At least they’re more elegant than the King’s fucking caterpillars.”

The four escorts paused, and the one named Gilraen collapsed. The others followed laughing until Legolas tittered himself, too refined to make such boisterous guffaws. It was then that someone tugged on his breeches and nearly pulled them down. By his waist was a teeny little hobbit, one innocent Pippin.

“Hoy Legolas, what’re you laughing about? Practicing a killer comedy routine with your friends?”

“The only thing killer here are Elrond’s eyebrows, the topic of our discussion. What do you think of them?” Legolas smiled at Pippin, stepping away so that he did not have to look down so much. Grateful for the neck-saving distance, Pippin chuckled.

“They’re so nice and pointy. Like his long, lethal-”

“AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” A tree-shaking scream erupted from the Last Homely House. In the peaceful valley, several birds and other creatures made haste away from the clearly insane elves.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Inside an open sitting room, Erestor screeched at the floor. “A _stain_? HERE?! Oh this will not do, oh no no no.” From inside his dull grey tunic he produced a vial of blue liquid and a scrubbing brush which had an absorbent cloth wrapped around the handle. With gallant fervour he went at the stain, scrubbing and scrubbing before applying his corrosive cleaner to the floor. Only when the floor had a hole in it was he satisfied at the stain removal… and then he realised what he’d done to the formerly symmetrical, wood-paneled floor.

His screams echoed all the way into distant caves, and dried puddles to blistered ground.

In the servants’ quarters, an elf voiced his annoyance.

“Ai, what’s that schizophrenic nutter up to now? Another imaginary bug or stain perhaps?” Pendir, the more snarky counterpart to Elrond’s beloved servant nudged at Lindir’s arm. Lindir twitched and immediately began sobbing, much to Pendir’s aghast surprise.

“W-What’s all this for?! Don’t tell me you’re upset about him, come now we always banter about Erestor! Lindir! Are you listening to me? Get a hold of yourself!” As if to demonstrate, Pendir held his friend around the waist and got a face full of tears right into his neck.

“Ohh, forgive me! Master has been ever so agitated today and… and… I think he hates me! Waaaaaaaah!!” Such drama and volume! Pendir wished he had a flabby neck in which to smother Lindir’s puling cries in.

“Shush, he doesn’t hate you. What did you do?”

“Nothingggg!! Uhuhuhuuuu~” Lindir’s gaping mouth wailed and wailed until his fellow servant grew sick of the copious amounts of drool washing against him. Pendir picked up Lindir and carried him into the cellars, where he placated every worry with a different type of drink. Soon enough Lindir had gone into a stupor and Pendir could go take a nice, hot bath. There were other servants to care for Elrond’s persnickety needs.In Pendir’s world, his whims came first. Nobody was watching him enjoy his life, anyway.

_‘Hohoo. Time to steal the Lord’s honeycream bodywash.’_

~

Later that day, Elrond grew ravenous after having slept most of the daylight away. The sun hadn’t even begun to set but was creeping down, so Elrond figured it was time to eat. A little snack hopefully wouldn’t ruin his appetite, and he sashayed completely nude to a balcony with one busily cleaning servant there.

“You, go get me something to eat.”

The servant felt he’d been a little rudely interrupted but said nothing and bowed to his Lord, skittering off with his duster still in one hand. Once Elrond had been served a plate of chocolate-caramel cream buns, the servant decided it was best to clean somewhere else. Elrond’s strangely wandering eyes unnerved him… and he had the distinct feeling of being ogled when he turned away. Him, being gazed at! While Elrond just stood there, bare for the world to see.What was the world coming to?

Elrond pushed the sweet treats into his mouth to sate his hunger, caring not for the spattered white sugar on the balcony rail. He had no clue where this sudden craving had come from, but he had to admit these were _ delicious_.

“Mmm…” he sighed, pressing himself up against the railing. Down below the Fellowship (still missing Aragorn) flounced in the gardens, playing some sort of game. As Elrond peered, it became clear that ‘toss-the-hobbit’ and ‘avoid Sam’s wrath’ were the two main activities going on. Then he saw Legolas, hiding in a corner whilst flanked by the green-cloaked Mirkwood escorts.

_‘Oh, the poor dear. He must be terribly frightened of the entire boorish lot, princely and strong he may be. I shall call him up for a nice chat.’_

Elrond turned, balancing his half-empty plate in one hand. A random elf wandered down the hall, oblivious to everything but himself.

“You there, bring me Legolas at once. I desire a conversation partner _with a brain_.”

The elf turned and being a mere guest in Elrond’s house, paled at the audacity which he was spoken to with. Then he pretended to be a servant.

“My lord, would you also like me to bring you some clothes? Maybe a set of decency leggings and a circlet of better speech?”

“Get me that Legolas and hold your tongue before I cast you from this balcony. Go, now!” Elrond had in fact realized that the elf was not in the servant’s garb nor did he look familiar, but the Lord of Rivendell had no fucks left to give.

Legolas did not mind Elrond’s nudity one bit and in fact smiled at the familiar reminder of home. In Mirkwood, elves ran naked where it was safe to do so and if the weather permit. The Silvan, while less cultured but civilized nonetheless did not care for state of dress, unless a specifically formal event was taking place. Thranduil often wandered his palace nude and in the summer, wore such light revealing robes that every citizen could get an update on his plump physique. Legolas sighed at the memory of his beautiful, untouchable father and nodded in greeting to Elrond. That was another habit he’d picked up from the forest folk – nonverbal communication. To his surprise Elrond (as Noldotastic as anyone could be) inclined his head similarly and spoke an opening line.

“Dearest prince Legolas, might I ask why you were cowering down there behind your escorts?” He held out the plate of buns while waiting for an answer. Legolas took one, and ravished the dough with his teeth.

“Mnghn. I do not cower, my Lord. Merely was I hoping for some respite from that damned mannish groping. Why must those stupid folk be so relentless in their assaults?”

“Oh?” Elrond raised an elegant, arched eyebrow. “Someone has been touching you?”

“Yes, Boromir. If you haven’t noticed, o wise one… he’s been lusting after my sweet succulent cheeks for days.”

Elrond narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your father, since it would be much safer for you in his halls. I do not wish molestation upon your fair form, be it at the hands of man or elf. Mixed together, however…” He coyly licked a little sugar from his lips, watching Legolas’s eyes dart to the flick of his pink tongue. Those sky-blue peepers darkened with understanding, then narrowed in disquiet.

“I shall have to refuse these lecherous advances all my life, even from one as understanding as you. I do think I’ll be heading home… Glorfindel can handle this Fellowship business. Right?”  
“Mhm.” Elrond dared not touch Legolas when the prince did not will it, though the lovely blonde elf did have quite a svelte, attractive figure. “Do send Thranduil my regards. I haven’t spoken to him since the last war…”

“Yes, yes. Sorry about Gollum’s escape, by the way. I wasn’t going to let my perfect hair be spoiled by some gold-obsessed ‘precious’ freak.”

“I know that feel.”

As Elrond and Legolas chatted, the sun dipped into the sea and pushed the moon up. Silver light cast all of Rivendell into a delightfully cool evening, just the perfect setting for a calm dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

Elrond plonked himself down at the head of the table, in his ornate beechwood chair. To his left sat Glorfindel, then Erestor, then Lindir, for even though the latter two were mere servants in Elrond’s house, they still felt like family to the ancient Lord. Knowing how those First Age elves went with their incestual adventures, it was quite likely that Elrond had some distant relation to everyone in Rivendell. That didn’t stop him from desiring half the noble folk, though. He gazed at Glorfindel with admiration, eyes following the cut of Glorfindel’s dark blue vest. Those big, muscular arms were out for viewing and Glorfindel flexed as he brought his fork to his lips.

“Mhm, these are some fine chicken strips.” He nudged Erestor, nearly destroying the elf’s delicate ribs. “Want some?”

Erestor shook his head, eyes bugging out a little. He placed a hand over his mouth and finished chewing, then gasped. “I’ll strip the meat from your bones if you elbow me like that again, you big brute.”

“Aww, c’mon. You know you love it.” Glorfindel winked, trailing his free hand down beneath the table to caress Erestor’s thigh. The normally jumpy Erestor closed his eyes, counted to ten and breathed. By then, Glorfindel’s attention had turned elsewhere.

To Elrond’s right, the Fellowship sat in what could pass for a peaceful arrangement. Legolas was closest to Elrond and Aragorn sat beside him, acting proper as Elrond had taught. Then the hobbits, Gimli and Boromir sat near the other end of the table. Opposite them, Elladan and Elrohir gave no shits for decency and were feeding each other, excitedly groping around. Elladan’s hand went for a breadstick with some spiced avocado dip and sucked at it, waggling his eyebrows at his twin. Elrohir swooned, fanning himself with a wide flat pastry.

 _‘For fuck’s sake.’_ Elrond shook his head, somewhat amused but far more upset. _‘These sons of mine will give me a bad reputation, what with their incessant fondling and the like. Ai, I should punish them one of these days. But not now. We have guests.’_ It was due to the company at Elrond’s table that lead him to drink fifteen goblets of mead in less than an hour, eating little and smiling less. He stared numbly into the swirling drink and barely heard what was going on. Opposite him at the far end of the table, Gandalf smoked weed and joked with Bilbo, who was inching away from one very randy Elrohir. Making various attempts to woo Arwen (who lurked under the table, watching Aragorn) was Boromir, at least until he received a fork stab to the nuts. Said nuts split open and gave cause for the tough man to whimper, drawing many odd stares. Elrond didn’t care and gestured for a nearby servant to refill his glass, his hand falling in an undignified slap to his side. So much for elegance.

The servant (actually a guest but obedient nonetheless) poured more mead and patted Elrond on the head, just because he knew he could get away with it.

“Nice to see you wearing some clothes this evening, milord.”

Elrond rolled his eyes and grunted some nonsense, then felt Glorfindel’s bright blue gaze upon him.

“Oho? Has someone been nakey nakey eggs and bakey today~?”

“Eat my entire ass, Glorfindel. That’s none of your business.”

Glorfindel licked his lips, leaning towards Elrond. “Sounds like a fine dessert to me~”

Later that night, Elrond was busily waddling to his room when he felt the floor shake. Heavy, thumping footsteps came closer until the majestic, brawny Glorfindel appeared before him.

“It is I, the frenchiest fry!” the warrior proclaimed, swishing his floor-length wavy hair around. “Now how about some o’ dat ass?”

“Pls no. I have work to do tomorrow.” Elrond tried making an excuse, unwilling to be torn apart without a hint of sensuality or love. Glorfindel actually _did_ love him, but was more excited for a nice hard fuck than anything truly erotic.

“Come on… I’ll go easy on you?”

“We both know you won’t.” Elrond scoffed, then hiccuped a little. “Oh, do pardon me. I’m far too drunk to do anything with you tonight.”

“You damned tease…” Glorfindel’s nipples flattened as he recognized defeat. “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow, milord! Don’t forget~”

The moment Glorfindel was out of Elrond’s sight, he forgot.

 _‘Maybe now all these cretins will stop bothering me and I can get some sleep…’_ Elrond slipped into his room and as usual, locked the door. His bed awaited, soft and grand. Four people could fit in here but Elrond normally had the entire bed to himself. He thought about that for a moment, laying on his stomach then rolling to one side.

_‘I do wish I had someone warm to sleep with. Someone who wouldn’t try to ream my ass until I prolapse…’_

  
~

 

The next day, Elrond went to check on his old friend Bilbo. In the freshly-dusted study where every single book and scroll was organized with millimetrical precision, Bilbo wrote. He was just finishing off the twenty-seventh chapter of his elf-on-hobbit smut fic when Elrond opened the door and the scent of vanilla filled the room. Wearing little more than a low-cut tunic and tight grey leggings, Elrond inclined his head towards Bilbo. The hobbit shut his book, blushing as his eyes roved up and down the elf-lord’s form.

“Everything going well, I hope?” Elrond smiled gently and regarded Bilbo with a curious look.

 _‘O shit, hope he doesn’t want to take a peek.’_ Bilbo’s curly hair shook as he nodded. “Yes yes, absolutely fine.”

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Of course!” Was that even a question? Bilbo’s love for food came before any of his other desires and sometimes, he woke up in the middle of the night just for a snack. Elrond’s eyes flicked to the cover of Bilbo’s book, noticing the leather-etched illustration there.

“Is that…”

“No no! If you don’t mind, I must get back to my writing! Yes, we shall speak later!” Hurrying Elrond out of the room and flustered beyond measure, Bilbo turned with haste back to his book. Elrond merely raised an eyebrow and left, certain that he’d seen a muscular elf on the cover with his family jewels on display. Oh well. Elrond could read it when Bilbo was asleep.

Today was the day that Legolas went home, and after breakfast Elrond bade the prince farewell.

“Say hello to your Adar for me, hm? And be safe. The roads are treacherous these days.”

Legolas smiled, waving at Elrond. “Will do! Goodbye, milord. And thanks for the lembas!” With enough food to last a month, Legolas rode while the sun still lit his path. The Fellowship meanwhile remained in Rivendell and grumbled about the loss of their elf. Boromir was in tears and had to be comforted by Aragorn, who was still being watched by Arwen. He could still feel his ankle spasm whenever she looked at him.

Elrond had little to do for the rest of today, so he decided to go and check on his sons. Elladan and Elrohir were in the wide living room on the ground floor of Elrond’s house. Open windows let fresh, sweet air in and the flowers from outside wafted gentle scents everywhere. Elladan lay with his brother uncaring for who saw, pressing hot wet kisses to Elrohir’s exposed neck.

“Oh, hanar…” Elrohir squirmed in delight, feeling around beneath his twin’s light robes. “Nnn…”

 _‘And they’re at it again. Great.’_ Elrond watched from the arched entryway, tapping his fingers against a nearby pillar. _‘I wish someone could touch **me** like that. Not my sons, no… someone like… Lindir, perhaps. Yes, though an absolute moron he will do anything for me, no matter what.’_ While curious at the sight before him, Elrond thought to give his sons some privacy and was about to leave when Elrohir squeaked.

“Ai! D-don’t bite me!”

“But you taste so good!” Elladan continued nibbling and went to bite his brother’s ear, whispering things so filthy not even a barrel of soap could clean his mouth. Elrond heard every word due to his proximity and sharp hearing and nearly gagged. _Now_ was the time to get the hell out, and that he did.

He went to find Lindir, guided by lust and demand alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if this seems familiar it's because it's a fanfiction of a fanfiction ;) nnn crack based on (but not in-universe) crack.


End file.
